


And the coming of the Lord

by cicak



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Bottom Will, Handel's Messiah, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicak/pseuds/cicak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Will is an exciting new tenor and Hannibal takes his responsibilities as a patron of the arts very seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the coming of the Lord

The soloists had obviously been chosen for their good looks as well as their ability to sing. Hannibal had been dreading coming to an untested company’s recital but the soprano’s partner, a psychologist with referring privileges that Hannibal occasionally made use of, had given him tickets. He had looking yearningly at the performance of the Magnificat that the BSO was hosting, but rudeness is never becoming and he should really lead by example.

His companion's wife was a vision, red hair and a green silk skirt that made her look like something from an illustration. He ached to draw her, but her lower register was middling at best, though he couldn’t fault her top notes and the natural tone of her voice.

The Christmas concert was for charity, and the tradition of each of the choral societies in Baltimore taking turns in the money making scheme that singing Handel’s Messiah at christmas had become had fallen on this new company of pseudo amateurs for the first time.

Never let it be said that Hannibal Lecter did not lower his expectations, to not do so would not give the game a sporting chance.

 

* * *

 

 

The alto soloist was awful, unprepared and taking the easy way out of each phrase where it was offered to her. The bassist was good, but he was known within the community, and Hannibal would make small talk with him later.

The tenor caught his eye from the moment he was led onto the stage by the conductor. Beautiful even by the standards of this company, slim and tall, with curly hair and well cut evening dress that nevertheless looked borrowed, yet it was his first phrase of, ‘comfort ye my people’, caused Hannibal to sit up straight. His phrasing of Jerusalem personified the ache of yearning for the holy land. Hannibal was transfixed, immediately.

His companion leaned over and laughed a warm huff of air into his ear. ‘Stop drooling, Hannibal. He is something though. He’s been kept well hidden by his teacher. You should pass on your compliments at the interval.’

 

Overall it was enjoyable. The choir were passable, if a bit unbalanced in places, and the first part passed quickly. The tenor sat in his chair, folded into himself slightly when not standing to perform. He seemed to come alive when singing, but the rest of the time, he was not so much bored, there wasn’t a hint of ego there, but instead genuinely listening without pretence. He winced openly when the bass badly planned a breath and the end of a run ended in a rasp, and then quickly struggled to cover it.

The fact that Hannibal found it charming rather than the rudeness such a display would normally incite in him made him realise just how attracted he was.

 

* * *

 

While his companion was queuing for a drink in the interval, Hannibal used his wallet and reputation to get backstage. The bass soloist spotted him immediately.

“Doctor Lecter! How wonderful to see you here. How are you finding the performance so far?”

Hannibal smiled and turned on the charm. “You are wonderful as always, Henry. It is refreshing to hear a new company do the Messiah. I came backstage to give my compliments to the conductor, but I was especially pleased with your tenor.”

“He is special” Henry said, scanning around. “Can you believe its his first paying performance? He has been slumming it in the amateur circuit, singing at recitals for audiences of family and friends for the last few years. Came to singing late, but his teacher sees great things in him. He’s actually a substitute for Adam, but poor love has nodules, and so Will came in for him.” He finally catches Will’s eye, and beckons him over.

Will comes, and Hannibal is grateful that his eyesight had not deteriorated over the years. He has a worn, working man’s beauty that was always extra pleasing to Hannibal when contrasted with high art. Will offers his hand, and Hannibal impulsively leans in to kiss it.

Henry laughs. “Will, this is Doctor Hannibal Lecter. You must forgive him, he is European.”

Will blushes and Hannibal lets go of his hand. “I could not wait for the end to come and say how much I am enjoying your performance, Will.”

Will holds his gaze, and Hannibal puts everything into the word ‘enjoying’, and does his best attempt to send Will a telepathic message of just how much he appreciates it.

“Thank you” is all Will says. There is something there though, something unspoken, but an understanding that an offer had been made.

A bell goes down the hall, and the moment is broken. Henry ushers him out, and Hannibal returns to his seat for the second part.

 

* * *

 

Will has many moments to shine, the second movement being the passion and the tenor voice should represent Jesus’s suffering. Will sings the anger and pain of the rebuke, the chastisement, the abandonment of God, the lamentations of Jesus and his mother of the coming crucifixion. Throughout, Will’s eyes drift to Hannibal in the crowd. He feels like Will is aiming all the feeling at him, as if singing only for him. When it breaks, and Christ is reborn, the king of glory revealed to all, and Will’s eyes meet him for the last time as the chorus swells for the Hallelujah chorus and the audience stands up. Hannibal sees Will slip from the stage in the commotion, and so takes a leap and darts out himself as quietly as possible.

 

Backstage is empty but for Will. The chorus is weirdly muted thanks to the acoustics, but it is still clear that they are in the dramatic lull before the crescendo of the triumphant entrance of the trumpets and timpani.

Will sees him and takes off across the worn floorboards and kisses him as the choir swells for ‘and he shall reign forever and ever’. Will kisses as hot and passionately as he sings, and Hannibal is more than a little bit in love by the time Will wrenches his mouth away to the sound of the choir dislodging themselves from the staging to come backstage. There is a short break between the second and third parts, and Will drags him quickly round various empty music cases that litter the winding hallways to what is passing for his dressing room.

“I have to be back on stage for the applause, they cut ‘O Death where is thy sting’, but we have some time.”

Will drops to his knees on the rough industrial carpet, looking up at Hannibal as he pulls out his cock and licks the head experimentally. Hannibal’s hands end up in Will’s hair as a reflex, and Will smiles. “Don’t fuck my throat” he says mock solemnly, “I have a performance tomorrow” as he takes Hannibal all the way down smooth as silk.

It takes everything not to thrust, but he is good, taking his reward in the slick and expert caress of Will’s mouth, throat and tongue. Will’s hair feels rough against his fingers, and the scrape of his fashionable stubble against Hannibal’s thighs when he makes it all the way down feels shockingly erotic.  

Hannibal feels the start of his orgasm and pulls Will off him. Will looks debauched, swollen lips parted yet barely panting, presumably from his superior lung capacity. His face is wet and his trousers are open, the head of his cock just poking out to be played with by long, delicate fingers.

Hannibal pulls him up and presses him against the wall, pushing his hands against the slightly damp old plaster and tells him to hold them there. There is cold cream on the dresser, and Hannibal takes his place between Will’s thighs after divesting him of his trousers. His tails bump obscenely against his hand as he gets two fingers into Will, one from each hand to open him up as wide as he will go. Will’s hands cling to his own knees, high up on Hannibal’s ribs, and it’s uncomfortable but it helps, and so quickly, and with a lot of slick Hannibal is sliding into Will as the choir sings ‘thanks be to god’.

Its a short, brutal fuck at one of those miraculous angles that the angels cause him to maintain for as long as is necessary. Will cries out loud on each hard thrust in, his voice well warmed up and so vibrates through his body with the well trained resonance that will make him famous if Hannibal has anything to do with it. Will lasts barely any time at all, coming hard from the friction of his shirt bumping against the sensitive head of his cock, and as he drops his knees, Hannibal pulls out and spins him round before thrusting back in, Will’s face pressed against the wall as he wrings out the last tremors of his orgasm from his newly freed hands. Hannibal wants to time his orgasm to the long, drawn out final amen of the piece, but fails, the warm clutch of Will’s ass proving to be too much temptation and so he lets out a long cry and spills warm and hard into him.

 

They pause to take stock. The choir is heading into the final movement as they hurriedly get back into their clothes. Will’s tie is undone, and he has barely the co-ordination to retie it. His shirt is wrinkled but the stain up the inside of the placket is barely visible from the outside. He does his trousers up and shifts uncomfortably, presumably from the drip of Hannibal’s semen creeping down his thigh. Hannibal can’t help but smirk at how well destroyed Will is. They share a final kiss, and Hannibal slips back into the crowd as the choir comes to start their final descent into the Amen. His companion gives him a knowing look, but Hannibal just closes his eyes and let’s Handel’s masterpiece flow over him.

  
Will comes out for the applause, and bows stiffly for his audience. Hannibal claps until his hands ache, and makes a mental note to send him flowers for tomorrow’s performance.

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say, I have a lot of Messiah feelings. I have also missed this fandom a lot.
> 
>  
> 
> [cicaklah.tumblr.com](http://cicaklah.tumblr.com)


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